


The Scout

by Eliza



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Community: wishkisses, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-30
Updated: 2007-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A French kiss (300 words) written for the Wishes for Kisses Valentine's Day round.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scout

"Come on, guys. It's only half-grown." Faith is leaning with her hip against the hood, her boot up on the bumper, calmly lighting a cigarette while Sam and Dean fight a big...orange.... There are horns. And slime.

"So it wasn't just the beer talking when you said she was different," Sam mutters.

"I get to be right once in a while," Dean says, trying not to sound apologetic. And really trying to avoid the horns.

"You gotta split it lengthwise."

"What?!" Sam stares at her, almost getting slimed.

"Sammy, keep your head in the game!" Dean snarls, then startles as Faith touches his shoulder. She takes his machete from him with a wink before kicking. Monster. Ass.

Literally.

"Oh," Sam says, his "Ah-ha" tone.

Before Dean can call him on it, they both say,"Eww," because...eww.

"Lengthwise," she says, handing Dean his machete. His dripping machete.

"You're her," Sam says.

"Who?" Dean asks, tearing his eyes from the orange ooze. She has a finger on Sam's lips.

"We don't need that gettin' around, do we, cutie? It draws the wrong kind of attention."

"What's the right kind?" Dean asks, just to be a pain. The answer.... He forgives her for messing up his machete. He'd forgive her anything as long as she kept kissing him like this. She tastes of ash, blood, cigarettes and a metallic tang. And she's hot, literally, like her motor idles a little fast. And strong. And aggressive. And walking away.

"Brothers Winchester," she calls, picking up her bag from beside the car. "Look me up when you want to join the big leagues." Another car stops on the small section of road visible from the clearing, and she flashes them a smile before sprinting toward it.

They hadn't told her their last name.


End file.
